Percy Jackson and the Goblet of Fire
by UWArchitect
Summary: It's the year of the Triwizard Tournament and Dumbledore has asked his old friend, Chiron to bring 4 of the seven to pose as a fake wizarding school in order to protect Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first story posted on this account. It's just an idea I've been obsessed with for a while now… Anyways, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Timeline: After HoO, before ToA and MCGoA. During GoF (obviously).**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS NOR DO I OWN MOST OF THE STORYLINE OR SOME OF THE DIALOGUE!**

* * *

Percy was about to kill his mentor. The old centaur wasn't making any sense, nor was anything he was saying sounding appealing. "Listen, children, it's not for too long. Ten months at most."

" _Ten months?_ " Percy and three others yelled. It was him, Annabeth, Piper and Jason who'd been called into Chiron's office that morning, completely unsuspecting of the information that was to be revealed.

"Well, the first task will take place in November," Chiron explained. "And the last in June. However we must arrive in October. You may attend classes there with the other students."

"Hold up." Jason said. He rubbed his temples, obviously annoyed. "Why do you need four? Especially when you just said only one of us will compete."

"The other schools are bringing many students, and it is meant to be a competition to be allowed to compete. Besides, you would be lonely, would you not?"

"I guess… So those not chosen will just be supporting?"

"Exactly, Mr Grace."

"No." Piper said.

The room went dead silent. Piper had just said exactly what the other demigods were thinking. "Sorry?" Chiron choked.

"No. I'm not going."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Piper."

"But, why us?" Annabeth asked. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet through the whole exchange. They all had. After all they'd been through and discovered in their lives, it was no surprise to Chiron that the four young heroes hardly batted an eyelash at the revelation that wizards and witches were, in fact real, but yet, only Percy and Jason seemed to be outraged at another quest. Chiron knew Annabeth was too, but she seemed to understand that there was no choice to be had.

"The headmaster, my old friend Albus Dumbledore, asked for all seven of you, but that was impractical given Frank and Hazel's ages and Leo-" he broke off, weary that the young demigods would not want _less_ to do with him if he brought up the lost camper.

"What do their ages have to do with anything?" Piper demanded. "Why can't they go? I've got to find him!"

Jason took her hand. "We'll find him, Pipes. We will."

Chiron cleared his throat, "To answer Piper's question, ages matter because there is a restriction. Only wizards and witches aged seventeen can enter the competition."

"But Jason and I are _sixteen_!" Piper protested.

"Yes, the next two oldest of the seven heroes. Albus can only lower the age so much for our _school_ before it becomes suspicious and the other schools complain."

"So," Annabeth said. "If we go, we'll leave in October and continue school there?"

"Precisely. You can choose to take the same classes as the wizards - which will count towards actual grades - or you may take your mortal classes with a tutor."

"And we don't have a choice?" Jason asked.

"No," Chiron confirmed. "The boy is in danger, you must protect him."

"I still don't see why the wizards can't protect him themselves." Jason grumbled.

"I will be with you the entire time, posing as the headmaster of our school."

"What school?" Piper snapped. "You still haven't told us that part yet!"

"Ah, yes." Chiron looked each child in the eye as he spoke. "We must be careful. The _real_ north-American wizarding school, Illvermorny, has never participated in this tournament, nor will it ever. We will be posing as a fake wizarding school called 'Delphi Institute for Magic'. It will be hard, but if we all stick to the same story, we should be fine."

Piper wasn't convinced. "But what if they become suspicious?"

"We must stick to our stories."

"But-"

"I think we're ignoring the _real_ problem here," Annabeth interrupted. "Chiron, how're we supposed to 'blend in' and 'convince' when we're not even magic? I mean, the only one of us who can do magic is Hazel, and she's not coming."

"I've made arrangements." Chiron said, in his usual avoid-answering-the-question-at-all-costs routine. "Also, there's a matter of uniforms - in order to make us look like a real school-"

"Why not just our Camp Half-Blood t-shirts?"

"Unfortunately, matching t-shirts won't be enough in Europe. In order to not draw suspicion, I've sent for some proper uniforms to be tailored and delivered in September."

"Great." Percy said. "Just great. Is that it? Or did you want to tell us that aliens are invading and we've got to stop them?"

Chiron ignored him, "Yes, that is all for now. I will give you more information before we leave."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's the second chapter and most of it is from the book. Feel free to scroll through those bits if you don't want to read them.**

* * *

Harry sat down next to his two best friends at the Gryffindor table, buzzing with excitement. They knew they were one Sorting away from discovering the secret event being held at Hogwarts.

The doors to the Great Hall swung wide and the following immediate silence reminded Harry of the effect of the mute button on a muggle television. Professor McGonagall led the terrified, yet excited, first-years into the hall. Harry watched their faces. He recognized the expressions of wonder and bewilderment as they took in the enchanted sky and the long tables full older students.

McGonagall placed the three-legged stool in front of the first-years. On it was a familiar, tattered, old wizard's hat. A tear near the bottom opened and the hat broke into song:

 _A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began.  
Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach.  
By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition.  
While still alive they did divide  
Their favorites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?  
_' _Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!  
Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!_

The Great Hall erupted into loud applause. As he was clapping, Harry leaned into Ron, "That's not the song it sang when it sorted us."

"Sings a different one every year," he replied. ""It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

The Sorting began. Dennis Creevey, younger brother to Harry's number one fan Colin Creevey, was Sorted into Gryffindor. He ran over to Colin. "Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs. **(Yes, that was taken from the book, and so is the next bit until the last line break, but I literally** _ **cannot**_ **change it, it's too good!)**

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

" 'Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last three years in a row.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-  
seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.  
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."  
"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"  
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then be-  
gan to walk up toward the teachers' table. A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.

Hermione gasped.  
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.  
One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side. The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.  
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."  
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.  
"Moody?" Harry muttered to Ron. "Mad Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.  
"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"  
"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . ."  
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time . . . no . . ." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament . . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.  
"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and this year the Delphi Institute for Magic from North America.-" Those who already knew the tournament now hushed at the mention of the new school- "A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three, now four, champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."  
"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.  
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.  
"The heads of Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Delphi will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."  
"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.  
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious — "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no under-age student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Delphi will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!" Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. **(It's over now, you can stop scrolling aimlessly)**

* * *

Back in the dorms Harry listened to Fred, George and Ron plotting to get past the age restriction. They weren't really getting anywhere.

Suddenly, the conversation changed to the Delphi Institute for Magic, "Never heard of 'em." George said.

"Yeah, I thought Illvermorny was the only Magic school in North America." Fred agreed.

"Well, maybe they're new." Ron said.

And that was all Harry heard before drifting off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Who do** _ **you**_ **think should be the demigod champion? I mean, I have a plan, but I'm always up for suggestions.**

* * *

A week before Halloween, a sign was erected in the entrance hall of the school.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were unable to pass after finishing classes for the day, as a large crowd had gathered around the sign. Ron, being the tallest of the trio, looked over the top of the other students' heads and read the sign aloud to his friends.

 _TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT_

 _The delegations from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Delphi will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast._

"Brilliant!" cried Harry. "We've got potions last on Friday! Snape'll never be able to poison us all!"

Ron laughed, and him, Harry, and Hermione pushed through the crowd and made their way to the Great Hall.

* * *

Percy, Annabeth, Piper, and Jason stood at Thalia's pine tree at the crest of Half-Blood Hill on the morning of October 29th. They'd already had to come to Camp in September for extra information and some annoying information about how the date they were leaving had changed.

They were now changed into the uniforms Chiron had ordered to make _Delphi Institute for Magic_ seem more real.

They were awful. A long jedi-like robe/cloak-thing in the same orange as the Camp t-shirts was the main part. Underneath the demigods were all wearing white dress-shirts and ties of different colours: Percy's blue, Annabeth's silver, Jason's gold and Piper's red (she'd refused to have it be pink like her cabin). The girls looked uncomfortable in their dark grey knee-length skirts (Chiron had not intended for this, he'd simply messed up the order form) and Percy and Jason complained about the dress shoes, saying they weren't practical for monster fighting (Annabeth and Piper rolled their eyes, looking at their skirts).

Finally, Chiron arrived in his wheelchair, four long boxes lay across his blanket-covered lap. "These just arrived yesterday," he announced. He handed one box to each demigod, their names written across the front in fancy lettering.

"Great," Jason said flatly. "What are they?"

"Your wands."

The four heroes opened their boxes to plain black sticks. Well, they were polished and each had a different marking carved into the bottom; Percy a trident, Annabeth an owl, Piper a dove and Jason a bolt of lightning.

"Cool." Percy said, sarcastically. "So glad we can actually _use_ them."

"You can." Chiron said. "They're enchanted. You say the spell, the wand does it. No magical blood required."

"Yeah, cause we don't have _any_ of that." Jason smirked.

"Not at all." Percy said in the same sarcastic tone.

The girls laughed. Jason tried to remember the last time Annabeth and Percy had each laughed for real. Not since… _No_ , he thought. _Not gonna go there_.

"So, when do we leave?" Piper asked.

"A half-hour. Say your goodbyes and meet back here at ten forty-five.."

"And, uh, how are we getting there?" Percy asked.

Chiron simply smiled. "You will see, soon enough."

* * *

When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines. "Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair." Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front . . . no pushing. . . ."

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

Harry and Ron were speculating how the schools were going to arrive, when Dumbledore called out, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid . . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer. . . . As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The carriage door opened and a giant lady emerged. Literally. She was about the same size as Hagrid, Harry guessed, but she seemed so much larger.

Dumbledore began to clap and the students, though still rather shocked by the sheer size of the woman, followed suit.

The woman smiled at Dumbledore and extended a hand. Dumbledore, as tall as he was, didn't have to bend to kiss it.

"Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr." She said. Harry cringed at the pronunciation but Dumbledore didn't seem to mind. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you." Dumbledore replied.

"My pupils." Madame Maxime gestured behind her. Harry turned to see a group of students, male and female, all shivering from the cold. Harry could see why, considering their robes only seemed to be made of a fine blue silk. They were all in their late teens, obviously, and were staring up at the castle.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime continued.

"He should be here any moment." Dumbledore said. "Would you like to stay here and greet him, or step inside and warm up?"

"Warm up, I think." said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses-"

"Our Care Of Magical Creatures teacher would be delighted to take care of them, as soon as he's finished dealing with another - er - slight situation."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other. The Skrewts, the creatures they'd been monitoring the growth of in class, were getting out of hand.

Madame Maxime seemed a bit skeptical about Hagrid's ability to deal with giant flying horses, but Dumbledore assured her all would be well and her and her students disappeared into the castle.

The school stood quietly, waiting in anticipation for Durmstrang and Delphi, speculating which would arrive first.

The silence was broken by an eerie rumbling.

"D'you hear that?" Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry nodded. It was as if a very large vacuum cleaner were approaching them, only Harry couldn't tell from what direction.

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look down at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.

Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool... and then Harry saw the rigging...

"It's a mast!" he said to Ron and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank.

There was a splash as the anchor was thrown, a thud as a plank was thrown down. They could see silhouettes of Crabbe and Goyle-like figures; bulky.

As they drew nearer, Harry realized that the bulk was due to the fact that they were all wearing a sort of cloak made of thick fur. But the man in front was wearing a different kind: sleek and silver like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff looked up at the castle. He smiled. "Dear old Hogwarts." he said. "Come along Victor." Karkaroff looked at Dumbledore. "He's got a slight head-cold. You don't mind if we go into the warmth?"

Dumbledore stepped out the way of the doors, "Not at all."

"Is Maxime here?"

"Yes, she arrived shortly before you."

"And Professor… Brunner? Is that his name?" Karkaroff looked a little stumped.

"Yes, Brunner and his students should be arriving shortly."

"Excellent." Karkaroff beckoned his students to follow and he led them inside.

Harry felt Ron's sharp intake of breath. The student at the front looked familiar. A picture flashed before Harry's eyes. He knew what Ron was going to say before he even opened his mouth. "Harry - it's _Krum_." Harry nodded.

Slowly, all of Durmstrang filed into the castle.

The Hogwarts students were beginning to get restless. Delphi hadn't arrived yet and they were getting cold.

"There!" came a sudden shout. "At the gates!" A second year was pointing down towards the front gates of the school. A large black car, like the kind Harry had seen the Queen ride in on television, had pulled up to the gates. Harry suppressed laughter as Filch scrambled to open them.

An audible gasp came from the crowd as the car drove up towards them. _Surely_ a car counted as a muggle device and shouldn't be able to operate in the grounds. But the car didn't seem to know or care about that rule and it continued up the drive.

It slowed as it approached the winged horses and maneuvered around them, coming to a stop just beside the carriage.

Suddenly, the horses heads all snapped up, they watched the car with an intense interest.

The Hogwarts students seemed to hold their breaths as the back door of the car opened. Two students got out, both girls. They quickly ran around to the back and extracted a large object that reminded Harry of a folding chair. Two more students stepped out of the car then, boys this time.

The giant horses began kneeling. One of the boys with misbehaving black hair turned suddenly to the horses. Panic shot across his face before he controlled himself. The horses stopped kneeling, but carried on watching the car.

One of the girls, a beautiful blonde, nodded to the boys. One of them, also blond, opened the passenger door to the car. The girls unfolded the thing they were carrying.

It was a wheelchair. They pushed it to the door. The next few moments were blocked from view, but Harry heard a count of "1… 2… 3!" and then a man was pushed out, in the wheelchair, from behind the door by the blonde girl as the other girl, an even more beautiful brunette with a feather braided into her hair, closed the door.

The window rolled down. She smiled at the driver, blocked by the tinted windows. " _Merci, Jules_." she said. " _Et le dit à Nico aussi_. ***** "

The window rolled up and the car pulled away. Behind it was a pile of duffel bags, all in the same orange as the students uniforms.

"Albus!" the man in the wheelchair said. His accent was strange: a combination of British, American and something else.

"Annabeth?" he said.

The girl let go of the chair and the man wheeled himself towards the headmaster.

Harry looked back at the students. They looked uncomfortable in their uniforms (who didn't?) and they kept shifting from foot to foot.

"Ah, Brunner, my old friend!" Dumbledore shook the man's hand. "How was your flight?"

"Ah, well," Brunner said, smiling, "It was alright. We survived."

Harry saw the students share a smile. It was obviously an inside joke.

"And the drive?" Dumbledore said.

"Interesting. Albus, remind me to never put four ADHD wizards in the same car for 5 hours ever again."

Harry wondered why a bunch of _of age_ wizards would even need to use muggle transportation systems. They could've even just apparated in front of the castle and walked up the drive, but they'd chosen to take a flight from North America into maybe Edinburgh and drive up to the Scottish Highlands. _How strange_ , he thought.

Dumbledore chuckled. "What can be done?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Go along inside." Dumbledore said. "I'll have someone collect your bags."

"Thank you."

The crowd of Hogwarts students parted as the Delphi students made their way into the castle. They were followed by whispers and murmurs. Harry knew exactly why.

They were all ridiculously good-looking.

"Wow." Ron breathed beside him. "What's in the water in North America?"

Harry chuckled.

The Hogwarts students filed back into the school.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor Table. The Durmstrang students stood around apparently unsure of where they should sit. Beauxbatons had already chosen to sit at the Ravenclaw Table.

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space —"

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Harry could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

That left only the Delphi students. They walked with their professor.

The blond boy said: "Where should we sit, Professor Brunner?"

"This table here." The teacher replied. "Gryffindor for the brave? Yes, quite fitting." He winked.

The students groaned. "Ha ha very funny." said the boy with black hair, but they took a seat just down the table from Harry, Ron and Hermione.

* * *

 ***"** **Thanks, Jules. Say that to Nico, too." (I hope. I didn't check grammar or anything. I should know, but oh well)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Let the games BEGIN! May the odds be ever in your favour!**

 **Voice from afar: Wrong book series!**

 **Me: Shut up!**

* * *

Percy's first thought of the castle had been 'Woah.'

The thing was huge! Like, Texas huge. Him and the others had been admiring it from the car while they drove up.

And Percy had not been expecting a crowd. A few teachers, maybe, but an entire school? It made him uncomfortable.

After the car came to a stop, Piper and Annabeth opened the door and ran to the back to bring out Chiron's 'wheelchair'. It wasn't his _real_ wheelchair, he was already in that one. But to sell the wheelchair-bound-teacher charade, they had to make it _look_ like they were lifting him into it from the car. It was hard, but Jules-Albert, Nico's chauffeur from Hades, was a parallel parking master - unlike Percy, who couldn't even drive a chariot. Jules parked so that the opened passenger door would block them all from sight.

It took all four of them to lift Chiron, in his proper wheelchair, to the ground without much noise. They did it to a count of three, then Annabeth pushed him out from behind the door while Piper tossed the other, still folded wheelchair into the passenger seat and thanked Jules-Albert in French.

Chiron addressed the man on the steps into the school: "Albus!" he said. He noticed that Annabeth was still holding his wheelchair and politely asked her to let go.

The man, Albus, asked about their flight. Percy flashed back to himself gripping his armrest on his left and Annabeth's hand on his right while she tried to reassure him that Zeus wouldn't shoot them down with Jason in the plane.

"Ah, well. We survived." Chiron said.

Percy smiled at the joke. _Barely_ , he thought.

"And the drive?" Albus asked.

Percy thought back to the drive from the hotel they'd stayed at to Hogwarts. What was supposed to take four hours took five. It was alright for the first three hours; him and Annabeth had slept, Piper did homework while Jason either helped or slept on her books. But in the third hour, Jules-Albert had noticed a car following them and had to take a detour that added an hour to the drive. By the time they reached the castle, the demigods were getting pretty restless.

"Interesting. Albus, remind me to never put four ADHD wizards in the same car for five hours ever again." Chiron said.

Albus and Chiron talked a little more about gods-know-what **(Heh)** until Dumbledore finally let them into the castle.

The room they were led into was called the Great Hall and Percy could see exactly why. It was huge. Four long tables ran the length of the place with tablecloths of different colours covering them: green and silver, blue and silver, yellow and black, and red and gold. The ceiling disappeared into an open sky, giving Percy an onset of homesickness for the dining pavilion which was open to the stars. Percy guessed that this ceiling, however, was just a spell, considering this was Scotland where it rained a lot (Annabeth made him do research) and they're wizards. Why wouldn't you have a bewitched ceiling?

The demigods had a problem though: they didn't know where to sit. They caught up with Chiron.

"Where should we sit, Professor Brunner?" Jason asked.

"This table here," he said pointing to the red and gold table. "Gryffindor for the brave? Yes, quite fitting."

The demigods rolled their eyes. "Haha very funny." Percy said, but they sat down anyway.

Chiron leaned into them, he spoke in ancient Greek: " _That boy just down the table. With the black hair? He's the one who needs protecting. Albus feels he'll be involved one way or another_." And then he wheeled away.

Percy, Annabeth, Piper and Jason (who took a second to understand what had been said because he was still not quite good at ancient Greek) nodded and stole sideways glances down the table, one at a time so as not to make him uncomfortable or to make him feel like they were staring.

They found a rather unimpressive 'Chosen One'. He was a bit taller than the average high school freshman, but quite thin. He under his round-rimmed glasses his eyes were emerald green. His shaggy, misbehaving hair was jet-black. He looked like a normal kid.

Except the scar of his forehead. It just peaked out from behind his bangs. It was shaped like a lightning bolt. Percy tried to remember the story: _an evil man tried to kill him as a baby but couldn't. Now the evil man wants revenge._

 _Sounds familiar_ , Percy thought. He thought of all the monsters and Titans who _he'd_ killed/dispelled to Tartarus who probably wanted revenge. He couldn't: there were too many.

Annabeth touched his knee. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just glad to have made it here alive." He replied.

"Ditto." Piper said.

"Yeah, but what's next?" Jason said, reminding everyone of the quest at hand. "I mean, we'll probably regret this. We might die. Chiron said this will be dangerous."

"Jason the optomist as usual I see." Percy teased.

"Just sayin'," Jason said.

They laughed. Percy was glad he at least had some friends with him in this new place.

Percy picked up one of the golden plates in front of him. "Dang!" he said. "Wizards eat in style!"

Annabeth was about to say something when, she looked toward the teacher's table. The old man from earlier, Albus and a bunch of other teacher-like people had entered. Percy noticed two empty chairs, but then he noticed something that made his blood run cold.

A giant.

"Guys?" he said.

"We see." Annabeth replied. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe giants are different for wizards?"

"You think so?" Piper asked.

"I don't know." Annabeth shrugged. "Perce, ask that girl just down the table."

Percy turned to face the girl with bushy brown hair about two feet down the table from him. "Excuse me?" he said, tapping her on the shoulder.

She turned. "Yes?"

"That woman, the one in black, is she a giant?"

The girl looked at her redheaded friend across the table. He sized Percy up and then said: "Yeah, I reckon she's half giant."

"And are giants in this country… nice?" Percy asked.

"Some. Considering she's a head teacher, I'd say she's probably alright."

"Thanks." Percy turned back to his friends. "Well, there you have it."

"Phew." Piper said.

Albus stayed standing, and silence fell over the hall. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularily - guests," he said, beaming at everyone. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

 _That makes two of us_ , Percy thought.

...  
 **Author's note: This chapter was longer, but it was getting too long so I've cut it in two. Next chapter hopefully coming soon! But I'm going camping this weekend so IDK.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Do you ever read something back and kick yourself for all the easily avoidable spelling and grammar errors?**

* * *

Dumbledore continued his speech after a brief pause for dramatic effect.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," he said. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home."

Dumbledore sat down. The dishes filled with food as usual. There was a variety of dishes that Harry had never seen before. He heard one of the Delphi boys, the one with the dark hair - who quite a few Gryffindors were staring at with either lust or jealousy - complain: "I don't know what half this stuff is."

The blonde girl next to him began to rattle off names of the foods that Harry assumed everybody knew, like Yorkshire puddings and assorted pies.

One of them she didn't know, and the beautiful girl with the cinnamon colour skin blurted out something that sounded french.

"Woah, Pipes. How d'you know that?" Asked the boy next to her, also blond.

"It's a French food, of course she knows it," the dark haired boy said.

"That and I've been to Paris." said 'Pipes'.

"Oh right!" said the blonde girl. "I remember that movie."

Harry shook his head and returned to his friends. Ron was also confused by some of the foods and Hermione told him. She too had been to France.

After twenty minutes, Hagrid entered. He slid into his seat at the front as quickly and quietly as he could.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back, happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Harry.

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

But she wasn't entirely right about that. Yes, it was true that most of the _Gryffindor_ boys weren't gaping at her, but the Ravenclaws' were. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys (and a few girls) were mostly staring - or stealing glances - at the Delphi girls.

"That's cause they're all looking at the Delphi girls!" Ron defended, voicing Harry's thoughts exactly. "And I can't blame them. Bloody Hell, they look like gods or something!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm telling you, they're not normal girls!" He kept glancing at the Beauxbatons girl and up the table towards the two from Delphi. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," Harry said without thinking. Cho was sitting a few places down from the Beauxbatons girl.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," Hermione said, briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch were sitting in the previously empty chairs.

"What are _they_ doing here?" said Harry in surprise.

Hermione looked at him like he was dense, "They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they? I suppose they wanted to see it start."

"Excuse me," came an American, distinctly male, voice. It was the boy from Delphi, the blond one. "Do you know who those two men are?"

Hermione nodded, "The one on the right is Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports-"

"The _what_ now?" the boy asked, eyes wide in confusion.

"-The other one," Hermione continued, "is Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

The boy nodded like he understood and thanked Hermione, but Harry saw as he repeated only the names of Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch.

Ron spent the rest of the meal arranging French desserts so as they were in the Beauxbatons girl's line of sight and easy for her to access.

She did not return.

He then turned his sights on the Delphi girls only a meter up the table, with Hermione shaking her head, muttering " _Boys!_ "

Harry had to admit, there was no _way_ they were normal humans. The boys' jawlines and perfectly sculpted faces and bodies looked like the craft of gods; you could practically see the well-toned biceps through the sleeves of their robes. The blond's hair was well groomed, yet a little windswept. The other boy's black hair resembled Harry's own; misbehaving and all over the place. The only difference was that this boy's hair all went in the same direction more or less, as if he'd come from the beach. They both looked very intimidating.

Speaking of intimidating, when it came to the girls… Harry was speechless. The blonde had dazzling hair that fell in natural curls, gleaming golden in the light. Her body was that of a supermodel: slim yet undeniably fit, like a runner's **(Well, she does run a lot… however, it is** _ **away**_ **from things.)**. She had a perfect tan that most would envy. Her eyes threw off the whole vibe though: they weren't blue as you'd expect, but grey and menacing, like the clouds before a storm, churning, preparing to release lightning, thunder, and torrential rain. Harry did not want to be on the receiving end of a glare from her.

The other, 'Pipes' as her friends had called her, was strangely familiar looking. Her cinnamon coloured skin struck something deep in Harry's memory. Her eyes were the complete opposite of the blonde's: somehow, they continuously changed colour, as if they couldn't decide what to be, but it only added to her beauty. She'd clearly cut her hair herself, but she made it work. A blue feather was braided into it. But Harry still couldn't shake the feeling of having seen her before. He turned to Hermione, "Does that girl, the one with the feather, does she look familiar to you?"

"You see it too?" Hermione responded.

"I feel like I've seen her before."

"Seen who before?" Ron interrupted. "I've never seen any of them before in my life. I think I'd remember if I had."

* * *

Once the golden plates were devoid of all food, Dumbledore stood up again. The hum of conversation died down right away, the excitement of the crowd building. Just down the table from Harry, Fred and George were leaning forward, eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, ever the dramatic. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to explain several things before we bring in the casket-"

Harry heard the blond Delphi boy whisper, "I don't like the sound of that."

"- the procedure that we will be following this year." Dumbledore continued. "But first let me introduce, for those who do not know them -" Harry watched Dumbledore's eyes wander in the direction of the Delphi students. "- Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation-" cue the polite applause, "- and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

Much louder applause rang out for Mr. Bagman. Whether it was because of his fame as a Beater or much more approachable appearance, Harry didn't know.

Dumbledore continued on, saying how Crouch and Bagman would be part of the judging panel with himself, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and professor Brunner.

At last, Dumbledore said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch."

Filch, who'd been standing off in the far corner of the Hall, approached Dumbledore, carrying a what looked like a bedazzled wooden chest. A very old, bedazzled wooden chest.

Filch placed the chest down on the table before him as Dumbledore continued to speak, "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

The Hall was silent at this point, so silent, it seemed nobody was breathing.

"As you know, four champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It was full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the four it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

There was a murmur of annoyance from Hogwarts.

"Nobody under the age of seventeen," Dumbledore continued. "With the exception of two. Jason Grace and Piper McLean please stand."

Harry saw Hermione's face change with realization. Movement down the table caught Harry's attention.

The blond boy and the girl with the feather in her hair both got to their feet uneasily.

"You are both sixteen, correct?" Dumbledore asked.

They nodded.

"Yes, sir." The boy said.

"You two - and you alone - will be allowed to put your names in the Goblet."

They nodded again and sat down.

Fred and George and several other students gaped at Dumbledore. "What?!" Fred and George demanded. "Why them?"

"Due to Delphi school's advanced Self-Defense program, Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman have deemed them suitable for the competition. That is all there is to say on the matter."

"Finally," Dumbledore finished. "I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

 **HAPPY CANADA DAY EVERYONE!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Soooo…. Re-reading** _ **Son of Neptune…**_ **HOW DID I MISS FRANK BEING SEVERAL MONTHS OLDER THAN JASON?! What?! I thought he was 15! What the Hades…. I'm a bad fangirl…** _ **Apollo**_ **-gies. Sorry, I'll just - *Points to door* *Walks away* *Walks into door frame* - go.**

* * *

Piper felt like shrinking into her strange wizard robe. It was bad enough that her and the others were constantly being stared at, but then her and Jason _had been made to stand up in front of everyone_. It was awful. And it got worse. The reason they'd been asked to stand was so that _every single person_ would know that they weren't seventeen yet and that _an exception was being made_ for them. _And then_ , the headmaster of the school had said her full name. She saw the looks of comprehension on some of the other kids' faces, heard the whispers from friend to friend. They'd finally figured out why she looked familiar.

She wanted to disappear.

After they sat down, Jason squeezed her hand under the table and the nerves evaporated. She had Jason; it didn't matter what people thought of her with him around. It was the same with the rest of the seven. With them, her confidence skyrocketed; they'd saved the world for the gods sake.

Dumbledore finished his speech and sent them to bed. All the kids around them - including Harry what's-his-face who they were there for - got up from the table and started making their way out, all with a destination.

"Where are we sleeping?" Jason asked. "Jules is gone with the car."

As the words left his mouth, Chiron sped past in his wheelchair. "Follow me, young heroes!"

They scrambled to catch up with him. He kept his speed consistent, nearly plowing over kids from the three other schools. "Come on!" He called through the loud hum of voices. "Keep up!"

"Gods, he's annoying."

"I heard that, Mr. Jackson!"

Percy sighed and walked faster, Annabeth laughing at him. He shot her his signature troublemaker grin. It made Piper's heart happy to see them like that.

Chiron stopped so suddenly that Jason, who was leading the pack, nearly fell over the old centaur.

"What the Hades…" Percy muttered.

Annoyed, Piper grabbed the handles of Chiron's wheelchair, determined to see what was going on that caused the traffic to stop. "Excuse me!" she called. "Wheelchair, coming through!"

The students cleared a path quickly, but that didn't stop the mutters and stares that they were getting. It probably just made it worse.

In the front of the jam, was none other than supposedly famous, Harry Potter, and the Headmaster of Durmstrang, Karkaroff. And of course, the commotion was about Harry's famous scar. Chiron had called it a 'mark of Zeus' which seemed crazy to Piper because Zeus had no part in the way Harry had gotten it. He just liked taking credit for everything.

The Durmstrang students were looking at Harry in amazement. Their Headmaster looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind. A man was now behind Karkaroff. He was big, muscular, a bit like an ogre, Piper thought. His nose reminded her of that of Hephaestus: misshapen, like it had been broken one too many times. He had a weird blue eye that looked everywhere, occasionally rolling back into his head. It made Piper recoil.

Karkaroff clearly knew the strange man. His face drained of all colour. "You!"

"Me," said the man. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It took him a second, but Karkaroff was able to peel his eyes off Harry and direct his students back to their giant boat.

"Finally," Piper said. "Where to, C- Mr. Brunner?"

* * *

Hermione stood in the doorway of her dorm. Her, Lavender, and Parvati's beds were untouched, their luggage where it always was. However, the other two girls whom they'd shared with since first year's trunks were nowhere to be found. Instead, by their beds were two completely alien cases. They were bright orange, one with an owl painted on the top, the other, a dove.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: This is a really looonnnnggggg chapter. Also, wouldn't be surprised if there are any spelling errors.**

* * *

Annabeth was the only one who'd figured out her wand. Apparently, at Hogwarts, there were no elevators or ramps, so in order to get a wheelchair up the stairs, one has to spell oneself. But wait, there's more! _The stairs move._

Percy watched in horror as Annabeth levitated Chiron just a few steps above herself and the others _right_ as the stairs began to change. Annabeth barely managed to stop herself from falling right off the edge, giving Percy a little flashback he was able to shake off.

Annabeth muttered a few choice words in Ancient Greek.

"The stairs _move_?" Jason watched in amazement as Chiron was pulled further and further away.

"They're wizards," Piper muttered. "I should've seen it coming."

"What now?" Percy asked. "Do we levitate him back?"

"Guess so." Annabeth muttered. And she did. Percy had no idea how. He couldn't even hold his wand properly.

"Why thank you, Annabeth." Chiron said as he landed safely back in front of them. Another section of staircase was coming their way, leading closer to where they were going than the last.

They got to the top and were met with a painting of a large woman. She was singing. Actually singing. The awful noise carried down the hallways and into their ears.

 _She's worse than coach Hedge_ , Percy thought.

The woman stopped when she saw them. "Ah, Delphi Institute for Magic! Welcome to Gryffindor! You'll be staying here for the next few months!"

"The painting is talking to us," Piper muttered, eyes wide.

"Um," said Jason. "Where's the entrance?"

"It's just behind my canvas," the lady said.

"Well, can you let us in?" Percy asked.

"Absolutely not," she shrieked. "You have not given me the password!"

Percy looked at Chiron.

"Balderdash," said the centaur.

"Isn't that a _Pokémon_?" The painting swung wide, hitting Percy in the arm. "Hey!"

"Percy, Jason," Chiron said sternly. "Go find your room. Annabeth, Piper, I need you to accompany me to my quarters and collect some things."

"But where _is_ our dorm?" Jason asked.

"You'll find it."

"But, Chiron-"

"Annabeth, Piper, we must be off."

The two girls levitated him away, looking back at them with sympathy.

"Great," Percy muttered.

As soon as they walked in, all eyes were on them. This wasn't new to Percy. Saving the world, going missing, then saving the world again within the space of a year made a guy pretty well-known. That and being the only living demigod child of Poseidon.

Suddenly aware of how he was walking, Percy awkwardly strode across the room. The way to the dorms was pretty well marked. They followed the signs and wandered around until they found a door with a handwritten note saying 'Delphi Institute for Magic: Boys'. The door was closed. No sound came through.

Percy pushed it open to find an empty room.

There were seven large four-poster beds, arranged around a central stove. Two of the beds looked slightly crammed into opposite corners of the room and untouched. They were also the two that had orange luggage in front of them; one marked with a trident, the other a lightning bolt. The room had several windows, all showing the darkness of outside. On the heater was a note written in fine cursive on a weird kind of paper Percy didn't recognize. It took them a couple minutes, but Percy and Jason managed to decipher the fancy script. It read:

 _Dear Mr's H Potter, R Weasley, N Longbottom, D Thomas, and S Finnegan,_

 _Seeing as your room is the largest, you have been selected to house the male delegations from the Delphi Institute for Magic. This is final._

 _Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall_

"That makes this so much easier," Percy said.

"Makes what so much easier?" The question came from the doorway. Five boys stood there, staring at Percy and Jason. One with a scar the shape of a bolt of lightning on his forehead.

"It makes…. Uh…" Percy sputtered. "Learning your names so much easier! Yeah. Cause um, well, we know your names? Your surnames at least-"

Jason elbowed him. "I'm Jason Grace," he said. "This is Percy Jackson."

Percy waved.

"Um, this letter is for you guys." Jason handed Harry Potter the letter.

A look of realization formed on the boys faces as they read. They all introduced themselves one-by-one: Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Harry Potter. The last one was quite obvious but Percy didn't point that out.

"Um,"said Neville. "Welcome to our dorm."

Dean, Seamus and Neville were comfortable with them right away. Neville reminded Percy of Frank, trying to be nice. They all seemed pretty cool to Percy. Harry and Ron were a little cautious but they joined in Dean and Seamus's conversation. Something about twins?

"Oi, Harry!" Dean called. "How far d'you reckon Fred and George'll get putting their names in?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "I just bet Hermione thinks they can't do it."

"Are we all just gonna skim over the fact that _Viktor Krum_ is at Hogwarts right now," demanded Ron.

"Not all of us have as much of a crush on him as you do, Weasley!" Seamus teased.

Jason looked at Percy, his eyes saying: _Who is Viktor Krum?_

Percy shrugged: _I have no idea._

"So, Jason, Percy?" It was Dean.

"Yeah?" Jason said.

"You're entering, right?"

"Yep. All of us are." Percy left out the fact that they were being _forced_ to enter.

"So who d'you reckon it'll be?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Who do you think your champion will be?"

All the boys were staring at them with fascination.

"Could be any of us," Jason said. "Dumbledore said the most worthy, right? I think everyone has a fair chance."

"Oh, come on, mate!" Seamus said. "You've got to have some idea!"

"I honestly don't know."

Percy didn't want to say, but he had a bad feeling it would be him, simply because the gods hated him.

"Who do you guys think _your_ champion will be?" Jason turned the question on them, starting a huge debate and betting pool.

* * *

Annabeth and Piper sprinted down the hallway, desperate to get away before Chiron changed his mind about the plants in his room for the zillionth time. They'd carried them in and out of the room for two hours before Chiron finally found the perfect balance and let them go.

They weren't tired, though. In fact they had quite a lot of energy. It was a Friday night, they hadn't done any training or homework, and because New York was five hours behind, their bodies thought it was only five-thirty in the evening.

They only got a little lost.

"Where are we going again?" Piper asked.

"The Gryffindor woman painting thing." Annabeth replied, slowing down.

"The fat lady?" came a Scottish voice from the wall scaring the young heroes half to death. It was a painting of a pub owner, standing in his dirty sixteenth-century pub. "Yeah, I know where she 'angs about **(I'm laughing too hard at my own pun…)**. Seventh floor. Just keep walking 'til you find 'er."

"Do all the paintings here talk?" Piper asked.

"Well, a'course!" said the painting. "And the tapestries."

Annabeth imagined if some of the tapestries she'd seen could talk. She shivered. "Anything else we should know?"

"You're the Delphi students, aren't ya?"

Annabeth nodded.

"Right then, I suppose I should warn you about Peeves…"

"Peeves?" Annabeth asked.

"Peeves the Poltergeist. He's a right wee troublemaker, in't he? The only one 'a the ghosts that'll cause any trouble."

"Thanks. We'll keep that in mind," Piper said.

"Now off to bed, both 'a ya! Before Filch finds ya!"

Annabeth remembered Filch from the feast. She was not keen on seeing him up close. "Thank you, sir. Goodnight." Annabeth and Piper ran up the next set of stairs until they reached the seventh floor. Once there, they ran until they found painting they were looking for.

"Oh!" cried the woman. "Look who's late!"

"What's the password again," Annabeth asked, silently cursing Percy for his unfailing ability to make her lose focus. " _Pokémon_?"

"Balderdash," Piper said.

The painting swung open. They entered into a large room full of comfy looking chairs, a fireplace and large windows looking out over the grounds of the school which were shrouded in darkness. Through the west **(?)** window, Annabeth could just make out Durmstrang's large boat floating on the lake. Annabeth sighed. As much as she missed being with her friends all day, she'd had enough of big boats to last a lifetime.

Piper joined her. "The Argo II was bigger," she said.

Annabeth put an arm around her friend. "We'll find him, But for now, we have this-" she gestured to the castle shining outside their window "-to deal with. Come on, let's go meet our roommates."

* * *

Annabeth and Piper followed the arrow marked 'Girl's' up two flights of beautiful mahogany stairs. They had been told by Chiron where their room was and they followed the numbers until they found the one they were looking for. Laughter came from behind the closed door. They knocked and turned the knob.

Inside were five four poster beds, a table and chairs **(I'm making this up)** , a stove, and three girls. Two were giggling quite loudly, the third laying comfortably under the covers, face hidden by a large copy of _Transfiguration Vol. 4_. Annabeth liked her immediately.

The giggling stopped when they stepped over the threshold and properly into the room. The girl looked up from her book. It was Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's friend, one of the people they were there to protect.

Annabeth decided to break the tension. "Hi," she said. "I'm Annabeth Chase. Uh, I'm seventeen years old and I'm from California. That's me in a nutshell."

Piper snorted. "Understatement, but I'm Piper. I'm sixteen. I live in New York."

One girl gasped. "I love your accents!"

"Thanks."

"I'm Lavender. Lavender Brown." She got up and shook Annabeth and Piper's hands.

The girl Lavender had been talking to did the same. "Parvati Patil."

"I'm Hermione Granger!" called Hermione from her bed.

"Nice to meet you guys," Annabeth said. Lavender and Parvati went back to their conversation, Hermione, her book, and Annabeth and Piper started to deal with their luggage. Annabeth pulled out her sponge bag and pajamas and went to get changed.

In the bathroom, she pulled off her uniform and exchanged it for some shorts and one of Percy's faded Camp t-shirts. It smelled faintly of the ocean. _Seaweed Brain_ , she thought, smiling. She brushed her teeth, folded her uniform and left the bathroom for Piper.

"So Annabeth," said Lavender. " _Who_ are those hotties you came with?"

Annabeth thought of Percy. He had definitely grown up well since they were twelve. She smiled. "Piper!" she yelled. "Lavender thinks Jason's hot!"

"Gods, don't tell him that, you'll feed his ego!"

That got a laugh from everyone, even Hermione, who Annabeth knew was listening. "Jason is the blond," she clarified. "He's Piper's boyfriend."

"And the other?" Parvati asked. "With the green eyes?"

"Percy Jackson, _my_ boyfriend. Speaking of them, we should go check on them, make sure Percy hasn't set anything on fire."

Piper laughed and followed Annabeth out. They found the boys just outside the entrance to the boy's dorms.

"We were just coming to find you!" Percy said, putting his arm around Annabeth.

"Guess who we're rooming with," Jason said, hugging Piper to him.

"Who?" Piper asked.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. How perfect is that?"

"Very," Annabeth agreed. "And we're with Hermione. At least that makes this whole thing easier."

Percy kissed her forehead. "We should probably get to bed, hopefully sleep away the jetlag."

Piper nodded.

Annabeth hugged Percy, breathing in his natural salty smell. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too." He kissed her. "See you in the morning."

She kissed his cheek and him and Jason bounded back up the stairs.

Annabeth and Piper returned to their room. Annabeth got comfortable, then slipped into familiar nightmares.

* * *

Ron thought Harry was the only person he knew whose nightmares woke them in the middle of the night. Turned out he was wrong.

Ron woke up from a dreamless sleep at around 1am only to find himself on the floor. He groaned and picked himself up, pulling the covers back into a comfortable position.

He had just closed his eyes when he heard a loud gasp. He was about to call out Harry's name, then he heard Jason's voice: "Percy?"

Ron quietly positioned himself so he could see. Luckily, the room was dimly lit with light from the nearly-full moon. Percy's skin glistened with sweat. He was shaking. Ron wondered why. It wasn't cold in the tower. Then he realized: Percy was crying.

"Percy," said Jason again. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes," Percy stuttered.

"Are you lying?"

"Yes." It was barely a whisper.

Jason got up. He went over and wrapped his arms around Percy, who sobbed into his shoulder. Jason kept muttering the same thing over and over: "She's okay, Percy. She's okay."

Ron was wondering who 'she' was when he realized he should not be watching. He rolled over and closed his eyes, finally drifting off when Percy stopped crying.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: School is torture and they don't even teach us things we need for life. On a more positive note I'm actually doing okay mark-wise.**

* * *

On Saturdays, most Hogwarts students liked to sleep in. That was not the case the morning after Dumbledore revealed the Goblet of Fire. There were quite a few students milling around near the large, burning, goblet. It had been placed on the Sorting Hat's stool in the centre of the room. Harry, Ron and Hermione were among them, waiting, watching. Ron asked a young girl if anyone had put their name in yet.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me . . . wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind Harry. Turning, he saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited. "Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

The scene that followed was probably one of the funniest things Harry had ever seen. Fred and George stepped over the line together. Nothing happened. There were cheers as the twins put their names in the Goblet of Fire. The next spectacle was met by an 'I told you so' look from Hermione.

There was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards. The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter. Even Hermione was laughing. Together, the trio headed over to the Gryffindor table for breakfast. They ate their eggs, sausages and toast between fits of giggles.

Suddenly, the Great Hall went dead silent. He and his friends turned to the doors. None of the students from any of the schools spoke a word; they were too shocked and intimidated.

Walking in perfect sync, as if they'd done it a thousand times, the four Delphi Institute for Magic students walked through the Great Hall. Harry was a little scared. The boys towered over him, both at around six feet tall. The girls were also quite tall, but it wasn't their height that scared Harry, it was their expressions. Their downturned faces made Harry want to cower. To make things weirder, they were dressed in normal muggle street clothes as opposed to their orange wizard robes they'd donned the day before. Muttering erupted all around the Great Hall. The four incredibly attractive students, dressed in jeans, an assortment of faded orange and purple t-shirts and trainers approached the golden age line. They stopped quickly to write their names on the papers they had. Harry noticed they used a muggle pen rather than a quill.

Percy stepped up first. He quickly stepped over the age line and dropped his paper into the Goblet. He stepped away. The blonde girl, Annabeth, as Percy had told them, went next. She too had no issues when it came to the line. Piper, the brunette who was Jason's girlfriend was the same. Jason went last, carefully dropping his own paper into the flames. The Goblet's flames roared with power. For a second, Harry thought it would spit them out, but it didn't; it seemed they were very worthy.

Harry's instincts told him that something was seriously off about these American wizards; they seemed to be hiding something; stuttering, tripping over themselves, back-peddling. What if they were American wizard spies? If muggles had spies, why not wizards. Harry was sure that must be a thing somewhere.

"Hermione," he said, not taking his eyes off the Americans for a second as they stood watching the roaring flames. "Do wizards have spies? Ya-know, like muggles do?"

"I'd guess," she said. "But we may never know. It's their job to stay hidden."

"Hm," Harry said, nodding.

Suddenly, the fire stopped and the Americans began to notice the attention being paid to them.

Percy laughed nervously. "I'm guessing that didn't happen with anyone else," he said.

All of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons shook their heads.

"Oh," said Jason. "Great."

With that, they sat down together and were quickly laughing about something Percy said.

* * *

It was time: the Halloween Feast. The Goblet of Fire would soon choose the participants of the Triwizard Tournament.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered.

Annabeth held her breath. She wanted to be chosen for the sole reason of not wanting any of her friends to have to compete. She knew who it would be, she could feel it. Hera hated her and would make this so Annabeth would suffer the most. Annabeth wouldn't be chosen: Percy would. Annabeth heard thunder in the distance, as if the most annoying queen of the gods could hear her thoughts. Percy gripped her hand and she came back. If something happened to him in this competition… No, she didn't want to think about that.

The flames inside the goblet turned red. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped. Annabeth felt herself squeeze Percy's hand.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it. The flames had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, voice clear, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron, Percy and Jason's roomate, one of the people they were there to protect, as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

A girl got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Annabeth knew the order: Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, Delphi.

The Hogwarts champion would be next... And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted in applause. Everyone else in Hogwarts yelled in protest. Annabeth leaned into Percy, who got the memo and put an arm around her. The Delphi champion's name would come at any minute now.

The Goblet roared redder and with more power than before. The room was silent, all cheering, whispering, or muttering had ceased in a second. A paper shot out of the Goblet, a regular piece of lined paper: a Delphi name.

Dumbledore snatched it out of the air and read the name. Annabeth's heart dropped. She wanted to throw up. He'd yelled the name with such pride and joy, as if it were an honour to have to fight for your life.

"The Delphi champion is," Dumbledore yelled. "Annabeth Chase!"


	9. Chapter 9

The other schools stopped their polite clapping as soon as they realized the Delphi students weren't cheering. No, they weren't cheering, they weren't clapping, they weren't happy or excited at all.

Annabeth sat for a second, frozen. _Stupid,_ she thought, _so stupid_. Her punishment wasn't watching Percy go through the tournament, it was watching him watch her go through it. She took a deep breath and started to stand.

Percy took her hand and pulled her back to him, putting his arms around her in a tight hug. "I love you," he whispered. Annabeth no longer felt the eyes on her back, she no longer cared. It was safe in Percy's arms.

"I love you too."

He pulled his head back and kissed her. "I'm sorry," he said against her lips.

"It's not your fault." And she pulled away.

She could feel the agitation in the room, the restlessness. She needed to go. She didn't want to. She wanted to yell at the sky and call Hera names and scream that this wasn't fair, that after all she'd put them through, they should get a break. She fought hard against tears as she walked along the designated path. It was a strange atmosphere, the silence of the hall. The wizards were confused as to why the Delphi students seemed to think it was a punishment rather than an honour. She felt the teachers' confused stares on her neck, felt Chiron's sadness. She knew he hadn't wanted this anymore than the rest of them. She made it to the door and went through, trying to control her shaking hands.

 _You're a child of Athena_ , she told herself. _You've faced Titan lords, giants, Hell itself. You can do this._

She calmed herself as her eyes adjusted to the room. She moved over to the fireplace where the other champions were standing. She looked at the flames lapping the burnt logs. In her anxious state, she didn't see a roaring fire as they did, she saw a raging river. Her chest tightened with fear. She couldn't breathe. _Percy_ , she thought. Percy, her source of comfort, the only other person who understood. _He's going to suffer_ , she thought. _He's going to suffer and it's my fault_.

She turned when Viktor Krum spoke, thankful for the distraction. "Viktor," said the Durmstrang champion, holding out his hand.

"Annabeth," she replied, shaking the outstretched hand, proud that her voice sounded calm and collected as opposed to shaking with terror.

"Fleur." Upon shaking Fleur's hand. Annabeth realized that she and this other blonde would be seen as the underdogs, the _girls_. She thought that maybe Fleur was thinking the same because the handshake became stronger, more firm. The two would have to prove themselves.

"Cedric."

"Nice to meet you guys," Annabeth said. "So, now what?"

* * *

Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb.

He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly. There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her frowning slightly. The only teacher who didn't seem surprised was Professor Brunner of Delphi, who had only sighed when Harry's name was drawn and made eye contact with his students.. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open mouthed.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."

Both of them stared just as blankly back.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.

"Well . . . through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Annabeth Chase were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair. Annabeth was the only one facing away from the fire, as if she could not bear to look at it. She stood strong and tall and menacing, studying the room as if finding escape routes. But there was something in her eyes, something dark and haunted. Something familiar, because he saw it in himself, yet different, because her eyes were much, much darker than his.

"What's up?" Annabeth asked. "Where're the teachers?"

"Do zey want us back in ze Hall?" Fleur asked.

Now, all four of them were looking at him, staring him down. He felt small and rightfully so - they were all seventeen.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward toward his fellow competitors.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen . . . ladies," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other four. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fifth Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Annabeth Chase was unaffected by the revelation. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.

Strangely, Annabeth still didn't seem surprised. "Tough luck, kid," she muttered so only Harry could hear. She was looking at him with sympathy, as if she too, did not want to be part of the tournament, like it was out of her control. He looked at her, the questions flying around in his brain written across his, but she just gave him a small, sympathetic smile.

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor Brunner, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

Professor Brunner went directly to Annabeth, pushing his wheels fast. Harry shouldn't have, but he listened to their conversation while Fleur questioned his eligibility.

It is as I feared, Annabeth," Brunner whispered. "Someone put Harry's name in."

"Oh Hades," Annabeth muttered. "Everything just got ten times harder, didn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. Come to my quarters after all this with the others, we need to talk over this. I was expecting it to pick you or Percy, so there's no adjustment there, but-"

"I get it." Annabeth cut him off. "I'm already working on a plan."

Harry shivered. Someone had put his name in so he would compete. Someone had put his name in.

Something else ate away at his mind; "Everything just got ten times harder," Annabeth had said. They were at Hogwarts for more than just the tournament. He really needed to get out of the room and to his friends.

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry. "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly. **(Emphasis on CALMLY)**

"No," said Harry. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows. Brunner and Annabeth were still whispering to one another, but it was much quieter and much more discreet.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

"No," said Harry vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely. "Perhaps, when I cast the spell and then made the single exceptions for Piper McLean and Jason Grace, I miscalculated, make a mistake."

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape.

"Mr. Crouch . . . Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

Harry's ears rung. He would've been perfectly happy to be told it was a mistake and that he didn't have to compete.

Karkaroff had begun yelling about how his school wanted to re-do the selection and how they weren't going to be competing in the next tournament. And then Moody came in the room and told him off, but not before something quite unusual happened.

As Moody entered, Harry saw Annabeth freeze and something washed over her. She looked up directly at Moody in a strange combination of fear and fascination. She turned right back to Professor Brunner. "Do you see..?" She trailed off.

"Yes, child." Brunner was not visibly fazed by Moody, but his voice shook in the slightest.

"How…?"

"We will discuss this later, Annabeth."

"He's got to compete," Moody was saying, "They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Moody limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.

"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her.

"I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards —"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but... funny thing... I don't hear him saying a word..."

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. " 'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter _is_ going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.

"Hey, uh," came Annabeth's voice from the back, accent seeming very strong. "I know we're new here and all, but I'm sure if you asked Harry, he'd tell you that he doesn't want to compete. Gods, _I_ don't even want to compete. But we have to, and that's what Mr Crouch has been trying to tell you all. Fleur, you might be right about the glory of winning, the honour of getting to compete, but I've been through a lot and I'm perfectly happy to sit on the sidelines. I'm sure Harry feels the same way."

The last part about sitting on the sidelines didn't seem to be pointed at the room, but Harry nodded, agreeing with her.

Annabeth continued,and a hard edge slipped into her words, "Moody's right and you all know it. Someone wants Harry dead and they've decided that this tournament is the best way to do it because guess what? No one would notice, just another name on the death toll of this _game_." Annabeth paused, letting her words sink in. "You had all better make sure that this person doesn't get what they want, because you can be damn sure that I am not losing anyone else this year."

Her words had the desired effect. All around the room, stunned faces looked at her, this girl who had put them all to shame.

Karkaroff shook it off quickly. "We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet. . . ."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.

Annabeth sighed loudly and slumped down on a chair. All eyes were on her again at the disruption. Harry understood the sigh's meaning; nobody would listen to her unless she made them.

Annabeth feigned surprise at the looks she was getting. "Oh, no, please. Do go on," she said, the sarcasm evident. Professor Brunner eyed the room, daring them to keep talking. "I get it, don't listen to the blonde girl because what does she know?" Annabeth stood. "What do I know? A lot, actually, but how could you guys know that. I'll rephrase my previous statement," Annabeth looked directly at Karkaroff. "I am not going watch another kid die when I can do something about it. Moody, tell them your theory because this is getting tiring."

For a moment, nobody spoke. Annabeth commanded the room the way a war general would and that brought some questions. McGonagall was looking at her with sheer respect, Snape was scowling, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were stunned. Dumbledore smiled to himself and at Professor Brunner. Harry gave Annabeth a look that he hoped said "Thank you". She nodded at him.

"Thank you miss…?"

"Chase. Annabeth Chase."

"Well, thank you miss Chase. One would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three, now four, schools compete in the tournament... I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fifth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."

And that continued for a bit, Moody explaining and Karkaroff and Madame Maxime ignoring Annabeth until Dumbledore finally broke it all up and decided that there was no use in fighting about it, it was the way the tournament was going to happen.

"Oh, have you stopped arguing now? Good," Annabeth said as she got up, casting innocent smiles at Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. Harry noticed McGonagall hiding a smile with her hand.

Barty Crouch moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Annabeth, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important...

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I've left young Weatherby in charge... Very enthusiastic... a little over enthusiastic, if truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff — Madame Maxime — a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise. Miss Chase, if you and Delphi want a room to celebrate, that can be arranged."

"That's okay, Professor. We're all itching to get rid of our jetlag, so I think we'll be crashing pretty soon."

And Professor Brunner and Annabeth left the room.


End file.
